After the War Emotions
by Melissa630
Summary: This piece of fluff focuses on what might have happened in Jericho after the Second American Civil War! While Heather is the main character, many of the characters have a role! I hope you enjoy it!
1. Chapter 1: Hope

**_After the War (Emotions)_**

**_Chapter One: Hope_**

Friday evening in spring was one of Heather's favorite times. She swung her purse as she walked home, nodding to the people that she passed.

"Heather! Heather, wait up!" Someone cried behind her.

She stopped and scanned her surroundings, looking for the person shouting her name. Finally, she saw him jogging across the square. She shook her head at the sight of Jake Green stopping traffic to jaywalk across Main Street. Four years after accepting the position of sheriff, he still refused to wear a uniform, dressing instead in jeans and a long sleeved fleece shirt with his badge clipped to his belt.

As he skidded to a halt beside her, she smiled and noticed that he wasn't even out of breath.

"Sheriff," she said in the way of greeting.

Jake smiled and offered her his arm, "Miss Lisinski, would you care for a police escort home?"

"Certainly," Heather replied. As she took his arm, she whispered, "I hear that Jake Green is on the loose again."

"Well, you definitely need someone to protect your virtue from that bad boy," he replied grinning at her.

They walked for several minutes in companionable silence before Jake said, "Em's wedding is this Sunday. Aren't you in the wedding party?"

"Yes," Heather answered. "I'm a bridesmaid. I get to wear pink taffeta."

"Sounds pink," Jake hesitated, "…and crinkly."

Heather laughed and nodded. "Definitely pink and crinkly. So are you going? I mean you and Emily seem like you're okay."

"We are," Jake nodded. "We should have never gotten back together but we're okay now. It's good to be friends again."

"I'm really glad, Jake," Heather said. "You and Emily both deserve to be happy."

Jake looked over at Heather as they walked and thought silently, _'So do you, Heather, so do you.'_

They finished the rest of the walk to Heather's house in silence. When they reached the house, Jake smiled at the scrawny marigolds lining the walkway leading up to Heather's front porch. In a few months, with Heather's love and care, they would be bushy and covered with orange, red and yellow blooms. They stopped as they reached Heather's porch steps and turned to face each other.

Heather smiled sweetly and said, "Thank you for walking me home."

"So, how about coffee?" Jake asked.

"Oh, Jake, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Would you like to come in for some coffee?" Heather exclaimed anxiously.

"No, Heather, that's not what I meant," Jake replied, immediately trying to put her at ease. "I meant we should go for coffee sometime."

With her head titled to one side, Heather studied Jake in confusion. When she finally realized what he was asking, her countenance changed. She sighed and her shoulders slumped as a sad expression settled on her face.

"Jake, I'm sorry," Heather said, her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to explain, "It's just…it's just too soon…"

Jake placed a finger on her lips to silence her. Licking his lips, he stepped closer to Heather and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Heather, it's been two years…"

"Jake…"

"Two years, Heather. Two years, one month and three days."

With tears running down her face, Heather swallowed, looked at her watch and then added, "Seventeen hours and five minutes."

Jake closed his eyes at the despair he saw on Heather's face. Then, he closed the distance between them so that their bodies were almost touching. Gently, he reached over and cupped her beloved face in both of his hands.

"Heather, he wouldn't have wanted you to be alone. He would have wanted you to happy."

Heather sniffed and nodded, "I know that but you don't understand how it feels to bury someone you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with."

"Maybe I don't," Jake said out loud even as he thought, _'Damn it! I do know what it feels like! I've watched you bury yourself for the last two years!'_

Jake's thumbs brushed away the tears still rolling down Heather's face and pleaded softly, "Have coffee with me."

Gazing searchingly into Jake's eyes, Heather nodded slowly, reluctantly, "Coffee."

At her words, a smile broke over Jake's face. For the first time in two years, Jake had hope.


	2. Chapter 2: Relief

**Chapter Two: Relief**

Heather stared at herself in the mirror. She tilted her head to the side, hoping that it would change what she saw. When it didn't, she groaned softly and told herself, "You look like a zombie! The wedding guests are going to run out of the church screaming in terror when they see you!"

"Who are you talking to?" Emily asked as she walked up beside Heather and put her arm around her friend. For a moment, they stared into the mirror together.

Heather was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Unlike many others, she had never gained back the weight she had lost after the nuclear attack. The pink taffeta gown made her look even more delicate than she usually did. Beside her, Emily glowed with the happiness of a woman in love. Her hair was perfectly coifed and her make-up expertly applied. Dressed in a white camisole, a silk panty, a lacy garter belt and silk thigh-high stockings, she looked like one of the models from a pre-holocaust Victoria's Secret commercial.

Heather sighed and rested her head on her best friend's shoulder.

"You just made it worse…" Heather told Emily.

With a quizzical expression on her face, Emily asked, "Made what worse?"

"My reflection," Heather answered despondently.

Shaking her head, Emily hugged Heather and scolded, "Hey, that's my best friend you're insulting! I think you're beautiful and as soon as Aunt Jo fixes your hair and make-up, you're going to look like an angel."

Heather gave Emily a disbelieving look but let her lead her across the room to her Aunt Jo. Sitting down in the chair, Heather closed her eyes and rested while Jo worked her magic.

As soon as Heather wasn't looking, the smile on Emily's face melted into a look of deep concern. Like the rest of her and Heather's friends, she had spent the last two years making excuses for Heather's lackadaisical attitude and declining health. Emily couldn't count the number of times she had said that Heather just needed time to recover or that Heather was a survivor and would bounce back if they gave her time. But it had been so long and she was beginning to wonder…

When she had said that Heather would look like an angel, Emily hadn't been lying. She watched as her aunt applied make-up to hide the dark circles under Heather's eyes and to make her complexion glow. Unfortunately, cosmetics couldn't restore Heather's girl-next-door beauty. Instead, the make-up only accentuated the ethereal loveliness that had replaced her all-American good looks‒the ethereal beauty that seemed to whisper that Heather wasn't long for this world.

Emily missed the old Heather. The Heather who had laughed out loud, ate cheeseburgers and drank lite beer. She missed the exuberant girl who had enjoyed life.

With a sigh, Emily turned and walked over to the closet to look at her wedding gown. When she had bought it, she had planned on marrying Roger. Roger…

"What are you thinking?" Heather asked from behind her.

"Just wondering what happened to Roger," Emily said sadly. "I should have stood up for him, Heather. I should have told everyone that he didn't mean to shoot Gray. I should have been stronger. Heck, I should have been faithful. I was so superficial and shallow."

"Hey, now you're insulting my best friend," Heather said as she put a comforting arm around Emily's waist. "I don't hang out with shallow and superficial people."

"Admit it, Heather," Emily said turning to smile at her, "I personified superficial and shallow."

"Okay, okay," Heather agreed as she sat down on Emily's bed, carefully smoothing the taffeta material. "You were a little shallow, but come on, Em, what about me? Talk about a pathetically naïve Pollyanna."

With a wry smile, Emily sat on the bed next to Heather and replied, "Well, it was kind of like being best friends with a Disney character."

"Well, you've certainly dressed me for the part," Heather giggled gesturing to the taffeta gown. "I'm all pink and crinkly."

"Wrinkly?" Emily's Aunt Jo exclaimed from the other side of the room and immediately began to search for the iron. "Who is wrinkly?"

Heather and Emily looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter. As she collapsed back on the bed, tears ran down Emily's face. Not tears of joy but tears of relief.

Relief because Heather was laughing!


	3. Chapter 3: Sorrow

**Chapter Three: Sorrow **

Heather sat down carefully, spreading her dress out so that it wouldn't wrinkle.

"I know I'm breaking my promise and I shouldn't be here…" Heather said with a sigh. She paused for a moment before continuing, "…but I miss you so much."

Her words were met with silence. She bowed her head as tears welled in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she continued resolutely. "I planted marigolds by the walkway. Dale was selling these scrawny little plants at the market and I couldn't resist them. He had impatiens, too, but you know I'd never get them to live. The front yard gets too much sun."

Absently, she reached out and picked a dandelion. Twirling it in her hand, Heather gazed blindly into the distance.

"He's also selling old-fashioned lawnmowers. You know the ones you push and the blades turn. Jimmy's son came by yesterday with a proposition for me. He said if I'd help him pass math this semester, he'd mow the grass for me this summer. I figured it was a pretty good deal…" She trailed off.

"Heather…"

She jumped at the sound of her name. For one crazy moment, she thought…Then, her sanity returned and she realized that the voice belonged to Stanley Richmond.

"The photographer is done taking pictures. Emily wants to know if you're ready to go over to Bailey's for the reception," he said as he slowly came up behind her.

She nodded and started to stand, taking Stanley's hand when he offered it. When she was upright, she shook out the skirt of her gown, spun around and asked Stanley, "Is there grass or leaves on my skirt?"

"I don't get many invitations to stare at a pretty woman's butt," Stanley grinned as he checked the back of her gown. "I don't see anything but I'm getting old and my eyesight's not what it used to be. Maybe I should dust the skirt off for you just in case."

Smiling slightly, Heather rolled her eyes. "You never change, Stanley."

With a final glance backward, Heather let him lead her through the church cemetery. Slowly, they walked through the head stones, both of them careful not to step on any of the graves.

"So are you going to tell everyone that I've finally lost my mind and I'm talking to ghosts?" Heather asked Stanley sadly.

"Nope," Stanley replied seriously as he stopped at the cemetery gate. With a solemn look, he admitted in a low voice, "I still stop to talk to Mimi and Bonnie every day on my way to the fields."

Heather let out a sound that was half way between a laugh and a sob, "Do they ever talk back?"

Stanley gave Heather an incredulous look which made her wonder if he believed she were insane. He opened the gate for her and with his hand on the small of her back, guided her out of the cemetery and through the parking lot. Anxiously, Heather bit her lip. Stanley seemed so distant but when they reached the front of the church, he stopped, turned to face to her and took both of her hands in his. Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to her and spoke.

"Come on, Heather. You knew Mimi. Do you really think that dying would shut her up? She constantly nags me. _'You don't think I'd have quit living if you had died, do you, farm boy?' 'Come on, Cornhusker, you gotta live for both of us.' _You know, even in death, I can't get it through her thick skull that we're Jayhawks, not Cornhuskers!"

Heather bit back a giggle at his words.

"Bonnie isn't much better. Nag, nag, nag."

"You're such an idiot," Heather said as she smiled at his obvious attempt to cheer her up; and then, she grew serious again. "You know, Stanley, most people would think we're crazy!"

Stanley met Heather's eyes and she saw the pain that he hid from the world. "Most people haven't been through what we have. Almost everyone lost someone in the war, Heather, but we lost everyone—Bonnie, Mimi…"

"Michael…," Heather whispered softly before she sadly confessed, "Today, when we were getting ready, Emily and I had such a good time. We laughed and sipped champagne..."

In a desperate tone, she asked, "How can I have a good time without him? I know he would want me to be happy, but I feel so guilty…"

Gently, Stanley folded Heather in his arms and held her close. Sighing, he rested his head on hers.

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"No, it never really stops hurting," Stanley whispered in a broken voice, "but eventually the guilt goes away and the pain fades to an ache."

Silently, she nodded and rested her head against his chest. In the shadow of the steeple, Stanley and Heather stood in each other's arms, lost in their shared sorrow, waiting for the rest of the wedding party to come out of the church.


	4. Chapter 4: Regret

**Chapter Four: Regret**

Heather sipped her champagne and listened to Emily's besotted husband describe the events that had transformed his life. When he came to Jericho four years ago, he had begun a journey which had led him to Emily. He raised his glass and toasted his beautiful bride.

Smiling happily, Heather watched as the couple stood and moved to the dance floor. As her friends swayed to the soft music, wrapped in each other's arms, Heather recalled a different set of events that had changed her life.

_Sharp, intense pain washed over her. It hurt more than anything she'd felt in her life and she struggled for breath. Moaning in agony, Heather tried to remember what had happened. _

_"Don't you die, Heather!" She heard Jake Green order, his voice shaking with emotion. "Don't you dare die on me!"_

_Grimacing with pain, Heather tried to fight her way back to consciousness so that she could comfort him._

_"Why the hell did you do it?" Jake demanded as he unconsciously shook her. "Why did you push me out of the way? That bullet was meant for me, damn it. It was meant for me!"_

_Suddenly, Heather remembered the crushing blow that had knocked her off of her feet. She had been shot. When someone increased the pressure on her wound, she involuntarily cried out in protest. Struggling against the consuming pain, Heather forced her eyes open._

_"Jake, we can't take her with us. She'd slow us down."_

_"Damn it, Hawkins. I can't leave her behind. Not again," Jake's voice was choked with guilt and regret. He was kneeling beside her, putting pressure on her injury. His head was bowed to hide the tears streaming down his face._

_"You have to," Heather whispered gently. "Jericho needs a hero and you're it." _

_Biting her lip to counteract the throbbing in her abdomen, she reached out and gently turned Jake's face toward her. When he looked down at her, Heather stared into his tortured, angry eyes. _

_"Heather…" Hawkins drew her attention. "We need to leave…"_

_Slowly, she nodded and said, "I know, Rob..."_

_Heather stared at Jake. At least death would grant her a reprieve from the heart-wrenching pain she had felt since she had returned from New Bern and discovered Jake and Emily together. She wouldn't have to grow old alone as she watched them marry and raise a family. Hesitantly, ignoring the agony the motion caused, she gently caressed his cheek._

_"He's right, Jake. You have to leave me behind. You know I'm not going to make it," she said softly with a forced smile. "You can't save me but you can still save Jericho."_

_Jake shook his head in denial when she mentioned her impending death, but Heather saw acceptance mingled with regret in his dark brown eyes. She watched as his throat worked convulsively and he looked away. _

_"Would you…," she trailed off, momentarily losing her train of thought as another wave of agony washed over her. "Would you carry me down to the stream before you leave?"_

_With a grim smile, Jake carefully lifted her into her arms and carried her to the small brook that meandered through the nearby field. Tenderly, he propped her against a large tree, kissed her softly on the lips and, then, rested his forehead against hers. _

_"I'm so sorry," he said with remorse. "So damned sorry."_

_As he pulled away, Heather cocked her head to the side and, with a small smile, whispered, "I'm not. Now go." _

_Closing her eyes so that she didn't have to watch Jake and Rob disappear into the Oklahoma landscape, Heather recited the Lord's Prayer to stop herself from begging them not leave her alone. After their footsteps faded away, a lone tear trailed down Heather's face and she gave into the darkness._

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her memories.

"May I have this dance?"

Heather looked up at Stanley Richmond with a smile and shook her head in refusal.

"Come on, Heather. If you don't dance with me, I'm going to have to ask some other girl to dance--she'll fall in love with me, develop a crazy obsession when I don't call her tomorrow and start stalking me. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

Tilting her head, she studied Stanley and saw past the humor in his words to the pain and sorrow in his eyes. Instinctively, she realized that she wasn't the only one being haunted by memories. Both she and Stanley missed the people with whom they should have been celebrating Emily's wedding.

Hoping to distract Stanley, she answered him with a smile, "No, I couldn't let that happen, could I?"

When Heather stood, Stanley took her arm and led her to across the room. As they stepped onto the small dance floor, the dance melody ended and a slow song started. They both sighed at fate's cruelty and Stanley pulled Heather into his arms. In the silence, as their bodies swayed against together, Heather's thoughts returned to the past.

_She surfaced to incredible pain. Scared and not knowing where she was, Heather fought to sit up. Suddenly, someone restrained her, holding her down._

_"Stop struggling. You're going to hurt yourself!" She heard a man tell her. His voice was soothing and gentle but firm. "Stop fighting me!"_

_Slowly, Heather swam back to awareness and opened her eyes. Grimacing with pain, she stared at the man checking her abdomen. _

_"The bullet shattered two of your ribs and ruptured your liver. I had to remove part of it and your spleen. You're going to hurt like hell for awhile, but you're going to make it," the man informed her, his attention focused on changing the dressing on her injury. When he looked up, his eyes met hers and he smiled reassuringly at her. "You need to rest. I'm going to give you a shot of morphine that will dull the pain a bit." _

_With an imperceptible nod, Heather closed her eyes. Drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, she barely felt the prick in her arm. _

_"You have to turn her over to Army, Dr. McCrae! We can't endanger the whole town for one girl!" Heather heard a voice demand from somewhere behind the doctor. _

_"Damn it, Brennan. I didn't save her life to let those idiots line her up in front of a firing squad. I'm not going to let them do that again!" The doctor's voice was resolute. "Besides, the only person I'm endangering by hiding her is myself."_

_"You always have to be the damned hero!" The other man snarled and Heather heard him slam out of the room. _

_Opening her eyes, Heather wet her chapped lips and said softly, "Don't risk your life or your town's safety for me." _

_The doctor turned back to her and replied, "I would have thought that one of the Jericho Rangers would understand my commitment to save lives. You're not trying to steal my chance to be a hero, are you?" Gently, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. _

_Heather was so tired. The pain consumed all of her strength and energy. About to lose her battle to stay awake, she closed her eyes and sighed, "You know who I am." _

_"Everyone has heard of the Rangers and, to be honest, the Allied soldiers have wanted posters of you hanging everywhere."_

_"Don't be a hero, Dr. McCrae," she ordered in a voice so low he had to lean down to hear her. "Turn me in."_

_"I'm sorry, Miss Lisinski, but the matter is settled. I'm not going to let them kill another one of my patients. Now, get some rest." _

_When he started to turn away, Heather reached out and grabbed his arm. She gasped at the pain caused by her sudden movement. _

_"Dr. McCrae, please…" she trailed off, regaining her composure and suppressing her plea for him to stay. She had learned the hard way not to reveal weakness to people she didn't know. However, she had never developed Hawkins' talent for inscrutability and something must have shown in her face. _

_"I'll be here when you wake up," he said gently as he took her hand and sat down in a chair by her bed. "And, Heather, call me Michael."_

_Relaxing at his promise, Heather succumbed to her body's desperate need for sleep. _

Once again, Stanley managed to bring Heather back to the present. However, this time, he accomplished it with one of his feet rather than his voice.

"Ow," Heather exclaimed as a size-twelve shoe came down on her sandaled foot.

"That's what you get for thinking of another man while you're dancing with me."

Frowning at Stanley, Heather pulled out of his arms and limped over to a chair at the edge of the dance floor. She sank down into it, leaned down, and removed the sandal from her crushed foot. Massaging her throbbing toes, she glared up at the bear of man grinning down at her as he tried keep both of them from drowning in regret.


	5. Chapter 5: Uneasiness

**Chapter Five: Uneasiness**

Jake Green had never been more uncomfortable in his life. As he leaned against the wall, he would have been surprised to know that most of the guests at the wedding reception realized that his uneasiness had nothing to do with the fact that his first love and former fiancé had just married a man who had been one of his mortal enemies three years ago. They thought it was the suit and tie. Shifting, he reached up and tugged at his collar as he listened to obligatory toasts.

"Don't you dare loosen that tie," his mother warned him sternly. Then, reading the look on her oldest son's face, she sighed and took pity on him. "Come on, Jake. Let's go check on Eric and Trish."

With one last glance over his shoulder, Jake let Gail lead him into Bailey's kitchen. They both smiled when they saw Trish Merrick ordering the kitchen staff around with Eric's curly-haired, three year-old daughter balancing on her hip.

When Johnna noticed her beloved grandmother and uncle, she started to struggle and demanded in a cross voice, "Put me down, Tiss!"

Rolling her eyes at the Greens, she sat the little girl down and commented, "Is bossiness a Green family trait? Pick her up, Mom. The kitchen is no place for an unattended toddler."

"And Trish calls us bossy," Eric commented as he walked out of the freezer, picked up his daughter and handed her to his mother. "Even Jake and I don't try to tell you what to do, Mom."

Jake exchanged smiles with his brother. Eric had gone through so much in the last five years: April and Tracy's deaths, their father's murder, Mary's execution and Johnna's disappearance. At one time, while they hid in the fields and fought a guerilla war against the Allied army, he had wondered if he'd ever see his brother smile again. However, all that had changed when they had retaken Jericho and discovered that Trish Merrick had cared for Eric's daughter after Mary had been executed.

When the Rangers returned to Jericho, Trish had tearfully turned Johnna over to Eric and Gail. However, the baby had been disconsolate, missing the only mother she had ever known. Unable to tolerate his daughter's misery, Eric asked Trish to move in with him and she had quickly agreed. It was obvious to everyone in Jericho that Trish was an integral part of the Green family. All of Jericho knew that Gail thought of Trish as a daughter and Jake thought of her as the little sister he had never had; however, everyone speculated about Eric's strange relationship with the young woman who lived with him.

Suddenly, applause broke out in the next room and Jake uneasily looked at the door.

"Jay, I'm here," his niece demanded his attention, bouncing in his mother's arms. "Look at me!"

Jake smiled at Johnna and rubbed his nose against hers. When her giggles subsided, she rested her head on his mom's shoulder and looked up at him with huge, brown eyes, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sleepy Girl." He said, wrapping one of her soft, brown curls around his index finger. "Why don't you take care of Grandma while I go see if I need to arrest any of those loud people in the next room?"

"You're silly, Jay. Gramma takes care of Johnna and Jay," she said before Jake ruffled her hair and left the kitchen.

"What's up with him?" Eric asked Gail, surprised at Jake's quick exit. Usually, he had to throw Jake out of the kitchen, especially if Johnna was present.

"He's just a little uneasy tonight."

"About Emily getting married?" Eric asked incredulously. Surely his mother didn't believe that Jake still had romantic feelings for Emily.

Gail kissed her beloved granddaughter's cheek and walked over to a stool. Sitting down, she began to rock Johnna.

"No, dear. He's been over Emily for years."

Eric traded glances with Trish. When Gail didn't continue, Eric sighed.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

Trish sighed, rolled her eyes at Eric and complained, "Mom! Don't keep us in suspense! Tell us what's wrong with Jake."

"Nothing's wrong with Jake, honey. He just a little upset."

Eric ran one hand through his hair while Trish shook her head in annoyance.

"So Jake isn't upset about Emily getting married…" Eric trailed off, unsuccessfully prompting Gail to tell him and Trish why Jake was so unsettled.

"Yes, Eric, I just said that. Weren't you listening?"

Trish walked over, stood in front of Gail with her hands on her hips and demanded, "Gail Green, tell us what's wrong with Jake right now!"

Gail looked up at Trish and sighed, "Jake is upset because he saw Stanley embracing Heather at the church earlier tonight."

"Heather Lisinski?"

"Heather McCrae?"

Eric and Trish exclaimed at the same time and exchanged surprised looks.

"I guess it is Heather McCrae," Gail grumbled, glancing up at them before looking back at her beloved granddaughter. "Don't you think it's strange that no one ever calls her Heather McCrae?"

"I call her Heather McCrae, Mom," Trish replied, a little put out.

"But you didn't know Heather before the war, Trish. Even her students call her 'Miss Lisinski'. It's like everyone knows…" Gail trailed off.

Eric looked at Trish in exasperation and then, he asked his mom, "Knows what?"

She ignored him and said, "I know I'll always think of her as Heather Lisinski. Well, maybe not always…"

When Eric opened his mouth again, Trish threw him a 'don't-you-dare-say-a-word' look and waited Gail out. Finally, the older woman continued.

"You know Jake realized he was in love with Heather when she was wounded in Oklahoma. I don't know which was harder on him—thinking that she was dead or discovering she was alive and married to another man."

Eric and Trish looked at each other. Maybe Gail was right. Maybe that was why everyone refused to think of the brunette as Heather McCrae. After all, everyone in Jericho knew that Jake Green was head over heels in love with the young school teacher. Well, almost everyone…

In the next room, as the wedding goers danced to an old rock classic, Jake watched Heather. She had a sad, faraway look on her face. Determinedly, he started across the room only to draw up short as his best friend approached her. After a minute, she smiled and let Stanley lead her onto the dance floor. The music changed. When Stanley gently pulled Heather into his arms, uneasiness filled Jake.


	6. Chapter 6: Amusement

**Chapter Six: Amusement**

Stanley opened the screen door to the hundred year-old farm house that he called home and walked out onto the veranda, sipping the beer he had gotten out of the refrigerator after his shower. He smiled as he surveyed the land his family had farmed for generations. It was the one constant in his life—the one thing that had remained when his parents had died, after the nuclear attacks and when Bonnie and Mimi had been killed.

Suddenly, he heard chickens squawking and a little girl's laughter coming from the backyard. Stanley walked around the covered porch and discovered his best friend sitting on the steps watching his niece chase a big red hen. When the boards creaked under his weight, Jake Green turned and looked at him.

With a half smile, Jake nodded his head toward the chickens and said, "I don't remember them being that tolerant of us!"

Stanley laughed and sat down beside Jake. "They weren't. They'd have flogged the hell out of us."

"Then your dad would have tanned our hides," Jake added as he continued watching the weird game of tag.

Johnna ran after the big hen and then, it turned and chased her. The two of them went around and around with the little girl laughing and squealing and the hen clucking and squawking the whole time.

"I remember one of the chickens doing that with Bonnie. Scared the hell out of me the first time I saw it. I was afraid that she'd get hurt," Stanley reminisced quietly, a small smile on his tanned face.

"Maybe it's a girl thing…" Jake replied thoughtfully.

"Could be, but I don't ever remember the chickens giving Emily any slack."

"True," Jake agreed, grinning as he recalled the intense hate-hate relationship Emily had with the Richmond chickens.

The two men sat in companionable silence for several moments.

"Didn't expect to see you this evening," Stanley said.

"Mom's at the hospital, Eric had a meeting and Trish is at the pub. I thought a little fresh air might be good for Johnna and I hadn't seen you in awhile."

"Saw me last night at the wedding and the reception."

"Yeah."

The men grew silent again and turned their attention back to Johnna. She and the hen had grown tired of tag and Johnna had decided that she was a baby chick. She was following the hen around the yard, walking with bent knees, flapping her arms and clucking.

"That's one weird kid you've got there, Jake."

"Yeah. Gets it from her dad."

"I'd have said her uncle," Stanley snickered, bringing a smile to Jake's face. "There's beer in the fridge if you want one. You have to get it yourself though 'cause I'm ain't waiting on you."

Jake stood up, went to the kitchen and got a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. Walking back around the veranda, he saw Johnna twirling around in circles. He shook his head in wonder as he realized the big red hen was trying to mimic his niece. He sat back down on the steps next to Stanley and took a drink of beer.

"That's one weird chicken you've got there, Stan."

"Uh huh. You know, if I didn't know better, I'd believe that chicken was Mimi. Wouldn't that be a hoot?"

Jake looked at the chicken and then, as he looked at his friend, he replied, "I take it back. The chicken's not weird. You are."

When Stanley remained silent and continued to stare at the chicken, Jake shifted uncomfortably and turned up his beer. Unlike Heather, Stanley seemed to have regained his footing in the world. He no longer had dark circles under his eyes and his muscular build was back. God knew that Stanley's lamentable sense of humor had returned. However, Jake didn't know how to handle the moments when grief overtook his friend. Feeling selfish, he changed the subject.

"Saw you and Heather dancing last night."

Finally, Stanley looked away from the chicken. He turned to Jake and grinned. "She says we're kindred spirits. I hated to tell her I didn't know what the hell a kindred spirit was."

Jake bit his lip and looked away from Stanley as he processed the statement. He figured Heather must be referring to something in a book she had read or some science fiction movie she had seen. Whichever one it was, he didn't want Stanley to be Heather's kindred spirit. If she had a kindred spirit, good or bad, he wanted to be it. He wanted to be everything to her. Damn it! What if Stanley wanted the same thing? Jake's face hardened as he wondered if being with the woman he loved was going to cost him the best friend he'd ever had.

"Why didn't you give up on me? Everyone else did. Dad, Eric, Emily…"

"Your mom didn't give up on you either."

"Yeah, Stanley," Jake agreed and then met his friend's eyes. "But you're not my mom."

Stanley tipped his beer back before answering his friend. He didn't understand what Jake was asking. It seemed simple to him but, apparently, Jake didn't get it. Sighing, he tried to explain, "We're friends, Jake. Friends don't give up on each other."

"I was gone five years without a word." Jake said insistently, urgently trying to make Stanley understand why he wasn't a good friend.

"So? You came back."

Jake tried again.

"I'm the reason Mimi died." The words were uttered with the guilt and despair of a man who had led friends into battle and had watched them die, a man who didn't understand why he had survived when so many around him had died.

"Nobody believes that, Jake."

Frustrated and angry, Jake sat his beer on the porch, stood up and faced his friend. His expression was agonized as he stared down at Stanley. Their eyes met and held, Jake's tormented brown eyes locked on Stanley's solemn blue ones. Then, Jake turned away. He couldn't face Stanley and say the words he had to say.

"I'm going to take Heather away from you," he said and then, unable or unwilling to look Stanley in the eyes, he turned, walked over to Johnna and picked her up. "Tell Uncle Stanley 'bye, Johnna!"

"''Bye, Unca Stan, 'bye," Johnna cried happily, accustomed to Jake scooping her up and stomping off with her in his arms. She waved enthusiastically at Stanley over Jake's shoulder as her beloved uncle strode down the lane.

When Stanley was sure Jake was out of earshot, he turned to the red hen and said, "Did you hear that, girl? He's going to take Heather away from me."

Stanley let his emotions wash over him. For a moment, disbelief, amusement, envy and, perhaps, even anger warred within him. Then, amusement won out and he collapsed onto the porch as hardy, side-splitting guffaws overtook him. "He's going to take Heather from me."


	7. Chapter 7: Shame

**Chapter Seven: Shame**

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

Heather opened her eyes and squinted at the person standing in front of her. As she slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, the swing she had been laying on squeaked and shook.

"Emily?" she questioned crankily, ashamed that Emily had caught her sleeping in the middle of the morning. "What are you doing here? This is your honeymoon! Shouldn't you be at home in bed with your husband?"

Emily shot Heather a Cheshire grin before she moved to the porch swing and sat down beside her. When she had left Daniel a while ago, he had been face down on the bed, passed out from an exhaustive afternoon of drinking, dancing and lovemaking.

"He's got incredible stamina but he's still a man. Great sex knocks him out."

Running a hand through her tousled brown hair, Heather shook her head at Emily before saying, "I can't believe anything knocks Daniel Hoffman out! The man is tireless. I remember all of those pitched battles against his regiment in Southern Kansas. I didn't think that I'd ever sleep again!"

Emily giggled. "He can be worn down. You just have to use the right techniques."

Raising a brow, Heather said, "Now you tell me. All I had to do was have great sex with him and we both could have gotten a little sleep."

"Nah. He may have thought you were pretty but you were a Ranger. He wanted to put you in front of a firing squad," Emily returned cheekily.

"Just my luck. Men dream of executing me!" Heather laughed.

"Well, we all have our talents," her blond friend snickered. "Besides not all men want to execute you. Are you going to tell me what's going on with Jake and Stanley?"

Heather looked at Emily, decided to feign bewilderment and echoed, "Jake and Stanley?"

Emily stood up and walked over to the front door of the Heather's house. With a smile, she motioned for Heather to get up and precede her into the house.

"I heard about Jake running across the park the other day just so he could walk you home and I saw you at the church and the reception with Stanley," Emily said with a perfectly arched brow. "I crawled out of my marriage bed, left my incredibly handsome, sexy husband and jogged across town for the story. You are not holding out on me, Heather Lisinski. I'll make us something to eat while you tell me all the gory details."

"McCrae," Heather said absently. Then, she groaned and ran her hands through her hair. Without hesitating, she stood up and led Emily into the kitchen. Sighing, she turned to confront her friend, "Have you learned to cook recently? Or are you planning on torturing the information out of me?"

Emily gave Heather a haughty look and answered with a sniff, "I'm going to make you eat those words."

Heather stared at the boastful blonde and waited for her to tell her the truth. Finally, Emily relented, made a face at her and admitted, "I've been taking lessons from Trish for almost a year now. Once Daniel asked me to marry him, I didn't want to scare him off with my cooking."

"Or kill him."

Emily shook her head as she opened Heather's cabinets and searched for something quick and easy to make. When she realized that there was nothing to fix, her brow wrinkled in concern. As she walked over to the pantry, she responded to Heather's statement. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Heather giggled, "You were the one who made the turkey that sent all of us to the emergency room that Thanksgiving. You're just lucky you got sick, too. That was the only reason we all forgave you!"

"There's something to be said about friends who throw up together…" Emily said as she looked in the empty pantry. Then, she crossed to the refrigerator and opened it. As she leaned down and glanced at its bare shelves, she frowned. She stood up and turned to face the petite brunette. "There's nothing to fix. Don't you ever eat?"

Heather refused to meet Emily's eyes. Instead, she gazed out the kitchen window. "I eat breakfast and lunch at school. I don't usually eat dinner. It's a pain to cook for one and I don't really like eating by myself."

"Well, just stop by the house. You can eat dinner with me and Daniel."

"That's all you two need—a third wheel."

With a sigh, Emily sat down at the kitchen table across from Heather and took her hand in hers. "I do need you. You're my best friend."

Heather smiled weakly and looked out the kitchen window. Hesitating, Emily bit her lip before she continued, "Do you know what I liked most about Michael McCrae? Other than the fact that he was crazy about you?"

At the unexpected change in the topic of their conversation, Heather looked back at Emily and met her gaze. She shook her head, wondering what Emily would say.

"Your happiness meant everything in the world to him," the beautiful blond stated gently. "Heather, he'd want you to be happy and you know that you're not. You're barely alive. I know you feel alone but you don't have to. You have Jake Green and Stanley Richmond hanging all over you…"

With a shaky laugh, Heather wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Then, she shook her head in denial as she tried to explain, "Stanley and I are just friends. We're kind of kindred spirits. He lost Mimi and I lost Michael…"

Emily nodded, "Okay, maybe not Stanley but what about Jake? You had feelings for him once and everyone in town knows he cares for you."

"I would never…" Heather started vehemently, trying to assure Emily that she would not get involved with Jake.

"Stop right there," Emily interrupted Heather sharply, letting her see how annoyed she was. "I am not the superficial girl that I was after the terrorist attacks and you are not going to use me as an excuse not to get involved with Jake Green. Is that clear?"

Heather's blue eyes widened in surprise at the passion in Emily's voice. Truthfully, she had used Emily and Jake's past relationship to justify avoiding Jake.

"You're right," Heather said softly. "I have been using you as an excuse not to deal with Jake. I won't do it anymore. I'm sorry, Em."

Angrily pushing her chair back, Emily stood up, looked down at her friend and said harshly, "Stop apologizing all of the time, damn it!"

Emily turned away from Heather and looked out the window for a moment. Then, she spun back around and continued in a soft but biting tone, "You know, Michael would be ashamed of you. The Heather he loved wasn't a coward. She faced her fears. She wouldn't have just rolled over and died like you're doing."

With those words, the tall blonde whirled around and left the kitchen. Heather listened as Emily's furious footsteps echoed down the hallway and she slammed out the door. Heather winced as the door banged shut. Then, she rested her face in her hands.

Emily was right. Heather knew that Michael would be ashamed of her.

She was ashamed of herself.


	8. Chapter 8: Determination

_The name "Jericho" and all character names and trademarks associated with the television program are the intellectual property of Junction Entertainment, Fixed Mark Productions, CBS Paramount Television and/or CBS Studios, Inc. The following stories are works of fan fiction intended solely as an intellectual exercise without profit motive. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be implied. In other words, it's just for fun!_

Determination

Emotions (8) with Stanley and Heather

Stanley Richmond and Heather Lisinski McCrae sat at a table in Bailey's Tavern. It was evening and the place was packed with customers who were eating, drinking and having a good time. As usual, Eric manned the bar while Trish worked in the kitchen. Dale, Skylar and some of their friends played darts while Emily and her husband danced to a slow, romantic song.

Gazing uneasily at the couple on the dance floor, Heather recalled Emily's harsh words from the day before and absent-mindedly rearranged the vegetables in her salad.

"You need to eat more, Heath," Stanley said, his mouth full of the club sandwich that Trish had sat in front of him a few minutes earlier. Swallowing, he picked up the beer bottle and took a hearty swig. "Pass me the ketchup."

"I've told you over and over not to call me Heath," she reprimanded him with an annoyed look. Then, she passed him the bottle and watched with a smile as he drowned his fries in ketchup. Wrinkling her nose, she grimaced as he picked up four red fries and shoved them into his mouth. "Where did you learn your table manners? No, don't tell me. I'd rather not see those fries again."

Stanley flashed her a huge grin but remained silent until he swallowed the ketchup-soaked potatoes.

"What's up with you and Em?" he asked after he had taken another drink of his beer.

Heather tried to look confused as she replied, "I don't know what you mean."

Stanley arched a blond eyebrow and Heather sighed.

"We had an argument yesterday," she admitted, slightly agitated, as glanced furtively at Emily, "She called me a coward and said that I was afraid of life."

Heather frowned as her resentment grew. After a moment, she continued hotly, "I lost the man that I loved, the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. My husband! She has no idea how I feel or what I'm going through. Just who does she think she is?"

The big farmer took another bite of his sandwich, chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed. Then, he picked up his beer and took the last drink. When his eyes finally met Heather's, he answered, his face solemn, "She thinks she's your friend."

The indignation drained out of Heather. Emily was her friend.

"You're right," the petite brunette agreed, "but she doesn't understand, Stanley. Sometimes I think you're the only person in town who does understand."

"The truth is…" he paused and shook his head, a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead. "I don't understand either, Heath. I loved Mimi in a way that I've never loved anyone else."

Stanley paused and waited for her to look at him. When their eyes met, his gaze held hers with an intensity that made it impossible for her to look away from him. Introspectively, Stanley continued, "When she was killed, I was so damned angry and hurt. It was hard to eat and sleep. Hell, it was hard to breathe but as the days, weeks and months passed, it got a little better. I got a little better."

He stopped and motioned for the waitress to bring him another beer. When he looked back at Heather, his eyes were sad as he told her, "But you haven't, Heath."

Sighing heavily, he reached out and took her hands in his calloused ones.

"You still don't sleep. You don't eat. You look like a ghost," he paused and gently threaded his fingers through hers. "You've got to start living again, laughing again."

Heather sniggered humorlessly, "Come on, Stanley. Your appetite might be better than mine but you haven't been involved with anyone since Mimi died."

Silently, Stanley considered Heather's statement. While there was some truth to her words, he still believed that he had recovered more than she had. He wasn't hiding from life. In fact, he had started living again. He even noticed when the new assistant county agent and the cute cashier at Gracie's Market flirted with him.

He shook his head and took another swig of beer before refocusing his attention on Heather. They had been through a lot together over the last few years. With her soulful blue eyes and solemn expressions, she had become an integral part of his life. He had to do something to wake her up, to get her to start living again. He had lost too many people he cared about. He was not going to lose her, too.

The bell on the tavern door jingled. Stanley glanced over Heather's shoulder as Jake Green sauntered through the door. Suddenly, he remembered his friend's threat to take Heather away from him and an intense expression swept over his face.

"Maybe you're right, Heather," he said thoughtfully, "What did you say we were? Kindred souls?"

"Spirits," she corrected.

"Right," he said as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "We're kindred spirits. We understand each other. Wanna dance?"

Bemused and a little wary, Heather took the hand that he offered her.

As Stanley led her toward the dance floor, he admitted, "I don't miss Mimi as much as I used to but you're right. I haven't moved on. I haven't dated anyone since she died."

A slow song started playing.

"Maybe we need to move on together," he said with determination, gazing at her soulfully as he pulled her into his burly arms. "You and me, Heath."


	9. Chapter 9: Rage

**Author's Note:** Recently, I was chastizing someone special to me about the importance of finishing things and that person brought up this story (and another). In order to set a good example, I promised to finish _Emotions_. (As for the other story, the site it was published on no longer exists and even though I have a copy saved on my computer, I have no inspiration. Maybe someday...)

**Warning: **I no longer have a beta so I had to proof this myself.

_**Chapter Nine: Rage**_

Jake Green froze, his eyes locked on the couple swaying to the soft strains of a romantic ballad. For a moment, he felt sick, his stomach clenching with loss. Then, the emptiness receded and rage washed over him.

"Not again. Damn it to hell. Not again," he muttered and started toward his best friend and the woman he held in his burly arms.

As he strode through the crowd, silence fell behind him. People playing pool put their pool sticks down. Couples on the dance floor stopped dancing. Everyone was staring at him and he was staring at the couple—at Heather and Stanley.

He met Stanley's eyes over Heather's shoulder and his friend had the audacity to grin at him. Jake's fists clenched as the waves of anger swelled to into a tsunami of fury. The black emotions that he felt toward Stanley were nothing compared to the burning, hot rage he felt toward Heather.

When he reached the couple, he dragged them apart, tearing Heather away from his friend's muscular body. He raised his hand, pointing at Stanley, and growled, "I'm going to kick your ass." Then, he turned to Heather.

She was pale. Shock washed out her delicate features so that her intensely-blue eyes dominated her beautiful face. Gripping her arms, he shook her slightly. His teeth were gritted against the frustration and anger swirling in his gut.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice hard. "Heather, just what the hell are you doing?"

She shook her head at him in confusion, her silky brown hair dancing around her face.

"Jake…" she started but trailed off. She was so stunned by his actions that she had no idea what to say. She tried again, "What's wrong? I don't know what…"

He cut her off, shaking her harder, and then he pulled her closer to his body. He felt Stanley grip his arm and heard him start to warn him, "Jake..."

"Stay the hell out of this, Stanley," he growled, throwing a hostile warning over his shoulder at his friend.

When Jake turned back to Heather, his brown eyes were stormy and tumultuous. "You're not going to do this to me," he broke off and clenched his jaw. He was so close to Heather that she could hear his teeth grinding. "You're not going to do this to us again." He stopped again, struggling for words, and shook her again. "Not again, damn it."

Heather licked her lips nervously and tried to reason with him, "Jake, I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Everyone in this freakin' pub knows what I'm talking about. You're a coward, Heather. You hid behind McCrae four years ago. You're not going to hide behind my best friend now."

"Jake, this wasn't her idea…" Stanley started again. His scheme to bring his best friends together was not going the way he had planned.

"Shut up!" Jake snapped at him. He looked around the room swiftly. He saw his mother and Eric standing by the kitchen door, their eyes wide with shock and concern. He saw Emily and Daniel, desperately trying to get through the transfixed crowd on the dance floor. He saw his deputies, his friends and neighbors staring at him in horror.

The sane part of him knew that he needed to stop and calm down—that he needed to have this conversation with Heather in private. However, he couldn't control the rage—the fear that if he stopped he'd never get the chance to confront her again.

When he paused, Heather's confusion and shock wore off. With a yank, she pulled away from Jake. Backing as far away from him as she could, she demanded angrily, "What's wrong with you?"

Incredulity swept through him. "What's wrong with me? You've got to be kidding me." He laughed harshly and looked around the room at the people staring at them. When he looked back at her, his eyes burned with an intensity that scared her. "I'll tell you what's wrong with me, Heather. I'm in love with you."

Heather froze and bit her lip. She shook her head in denial. He nodded and moved closer. "I've been in love with you for four damned years and I'm tired. I'm tired of you hiding from me. Hiding behind McCrae and Emily and now Stanley, damn it. You're afraid to admit that you love me."

Heather exhaled slowly as his rage spread to her. Her porcelain skin flushed and her blue eyes narrowed, sparkling with a passionate ire. Moving toward him with determination, she showed none of the fear that he had accused her of harboring.

_'She is so beautiful' _he thought, awed. She was his Heather again. He had forgotten that she was a fighter—had forgotten how determined, how strong, how courageous she was in the heat of the battle. _'My warrior.'_

She poked him the chest. "Let me tell you something, Mr. The-World-Revolves-Around-Me Green. The world doesn't revolve around you." When she poked him again, he reached out and grabbed her hand, using it to yank her against him.

"You loved me and you married him." He accused her. His voice was low but it carried across the room. Heather gasped, surprised at his allegation. Then, her surprise grew as she realized that no one else in the pub seemed shocked by his words.

"I loved him, too," she responded in anger without thinking and when she heard her words, she cried out in pain. "Everything is not always about you."

He smiled mockingly at her. "Where you're concerned, it's always about me," he said, his anger magnifying the arrogance in his words. "It's always been about me."

Heather shook her head in denial and then closed her eyes against the guilt she hid deep within her soul. Expelling a harsh breath, she opened her eyes to face him. She couldn't—didn't have the strength to face him in front of everyone. With tears streaming down her face, she pulled away from him. When he followed her, she broke and ran through the crowd, out the door and into the darkness.

Jake cursed and started to shoulder his way through the crowd. Suddenly, Emily and Daniel were in front of him, blocking his path.

"I think you've said and done enough tonight," Emily told him contemptuously. With an angry glare, she turned and started after Heather with Daniel and Stanley following her.

Suddenly, the rage that had consumed Jake faded. With a sigh, he glanced around the room. As he looked into the eyes of the people who had watched the scene between him and Heather unfold, he saw anger, disgust and contempt. Groaning, he looked toward the kitchen. Eric had disappeared but his mother and Trish stood by the kitchen door. In their faces, he saw rage.


	10. Chapter 10: Guilt

_The name "Jericho" and all character names and trademarks associated with the television program are the intellectual property of Junction Entertainment, Fixed Mark Productions, CBS Paramount Television and/or CBS Studios, Inc. The following stories are works of fan fiction intended solely as an intellectual exercise without profit motive. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be implied. In other words, it's just for fun!_

Guilt with Heather and Daniel

Heather Lisinski McCrae sat on a swing at the Jericho Elementary School playground, slowing pushing herself back and forth. Tears of anger, hurt—and guilt—streamed down her pale face. With a delicate sniff, she futilely brushed them away. She felt like she had been hit by a bullet that had come out of nowhere. Her chest was empty and cold, her mouth and throat raw like she had inhaled a poisonous gas.

Apparently, everyone had known how she had felt about Jake all those years ago, how her heart had ached every time that she had watched him with her best friend. It also seemed that Jericho's citizens also believed that she had married Michael McCrae on the rebound. No matter what anyone thought she had loved the young doctor.

It had been hard not to love him. Even in the most desperate situations, Michael had seen the best in people. He had believed in hope, mercy and forgiveness and perhaps that was what made Heather fall in love with him. He had clung to the very ideas and values that the war had torn from her.

Michael had always called her his hero but he had been the hero. It was still hard to believe that he was dead, killed by IED as he raced to take care of wounded soldiers. He would have helped anyone and he had given his life trying to help men and women he didn't know. Like Jake would have. In some ways the two men were very similar but in others, they were so different.

Heather's feelings for Michael were nothing like what she felt for Jake. Michael had been a gentle rain on a warm, summer night while Jake was a thunderstorm with crashing explosions and brilliant lightening. Michael had made Heather feel cherished, safe and loved while Jake had made always made Heather feel out of control—like she was drowning in waves of passion and unrequited love.

Slowly, Heather twirled herself and the swing in circles until the chains were twisted together to the top. Then, she lifted her feet off the ground and allowed the swing to whirl round and round. The speed of the spinning swing left her breathless like Jake always had. With a sigh, Heather thought about what he had said at Bailey's. With a grimace, she acknowledged that there was some truth in his earlier words.

If Jake and Emily hadn't been together when she had been shot, she would have rebuffed the young doctor's advances. But Jake and Emily had been together and she had believed that they would always be together. After she had recuperated, the local freedom fighters had recruited her and rather than making her way back to Jericho, Heather had spent almost a year leading them against the Allied forces.

When Daniel's troops had forced the Jericho Rangers south, Heather had been reunited with Jake and Rob Hawkins. The two groups had coalesced into a stronger force—one that had managed to push the Allies back to Nebraska.

"I knew that I'd find you here," a voice came out of the darkness.

Heather looked up.

"Emily thought that you'd go home and Stanley said that you'd go to the cemetery," the weathered man said as he slowly approached her and sat down on the other swing.

Sighing, Heather stared past him into the darkness.

"How did you know?"

Daniel snorted. "Heather, I spend several years of my life chasing you and the Jericho Rangers. I learned a little bit about you during that time."

She smirked and sent him a sidelong glance. "Only a little bit. You never managed to catch me or my men."

"That turned out to be a good thing," the man agreed, pushing his swing slowly back and forth. "Since I was fighting on the wrong side."

"You didn't know."

"Yeah, but I was and I have to live with that," he said softly and stared off into the distance for several minutes. Then, he turned back to the young woman at his side. "I've learned more about you since I moved to Jericho."

"And hooked up with my best friend…" Heather added.

"And married your best friend," Daniel modified her statement before he changed the subject. "Honestly, I don't know which Heather I'd rather fight. The one I knew during the war or the one I know now…"

The brunette stared at him.

"The woman you were was tough but she had hope. The woman I know now doesn't."

"I didn't have much hope back then either."

"You had hope for a better future," the former soldier informed her honestly. "You don't have that now."

"I…" Heather stopped. Her hope had died when Michael had. It had been replaced by guilt—guilt because she had lived and he hadn't, guilt because she still had feelings, guilt because she needed things that he couldn't give her.

"Look, I never knew McCrae," Daniel admitted. "But if what Emily told me about him is true, he would want you to be happy...even if that meant loving Jake Greene."

She stared at him, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip.

"Personally, I think you can do much better than Jake Greene. The man is a freakin' idiot," the soldier informed her solemnly before he continued. "I can introduce you to men whose dreams you haunted for years."

Heather laughed involuntarily at his suggestion. "Oh, no. Emily's told me how you dreamed of executing me. I don't want to hook up with any of your friends."

Daniel shook his head ruefully and admitted with a grin, "I told her that my dreams about you always began with you in front of firing squad. I never told her that you ended up dead in them." He paused and considered the subject for a moment. "Maybe we should let her keep thinking that you did."

Blushing at the inference, Heather shook her head at him and then she grew serious.

"I feel guilty when I think about Jake—like I'm betraying Michael."

"Did you betray him when he was alive?"

"What did you mean?" Heather asked, confused.

"Did you compare him to Jake when he was alive?"

"No."

"Did you dream about leaving him and being with Jake?"

"No."

"Did you ever cheat on him with Jake?"

"No! I never cheated on Michael and I can't cheat on him now," Heather cried, tears glistening in her wide blue eyes.

"No, you can't," Daniel agreed before he continued harshly, "Because he's dead, Heather. He's dead and you're alive. You have to let the guilt go. You have to let him go."

"But…"

"You want to move on and you know it. That's what's eating you—the guilt that you want to move on and leave him behind. You want to laugh and eat cheeseburgers and drink beer. You want to go out, dance and make love. You want to live," Daniel's words were ruthless and his tone unsympathetic, making it impossible for her hide from the truth. "Let the guilt go. Stop tormenting your friends with the 'poor me' act. You're better than that."

Her blues flashed at his cruel words and anger swept through her. "You…"

He raised a hand and cut her off. "There you go. There's the Heather I know—the fighter. Get mad. Hell, you should be mad after that scene with Greene. Just stop being a coward. Let go of the guilt and live. Believe me I know all about guilt and how it tries to destroy you. You'll never be happy if you let it control you."

She stared at him, her eyes still brilliant with emotion, as she thought about his words. He did know about guilt. He had trusted the wrong men and innocent people had died because of it; however, he had let it go and had moved on. Maybe it was time she did, too. Slowly, Heather stood.

"I'm going home."

"I'm coming with you. That's where Emily and Stan said to meet them," Daniel told her as he followed her across the playground. In a slightly cheerful voice, he said, "I can't wait until Emily sees that I found you. She going to be pissed that I figured out where you were and she didn't."

Heather sent him a sideways glance. "She'll make you pay."

"I certainly hope so," he returned with a wink. Heather smiled and shook her head.

As the couple crossed the park and walked toward her house, Heather admitted that it was time that she let go of the guilt she had harbored for so long. Her brow furrowed, she wondered what she would find under the guilt.


End file.
